Twenty Reasons
by floatingdaydream
Summary: Elizaveta hates Gilbert. She thought she would list things she hates about Gilbert, but she couldn't find the twentieth thing and reason.
1. The 19 reasons

**I thought there should be reasons why both of them are like cat and dog XD  
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**Pardon the OOCness, if there is any. **

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><p>Everytime she sees him, she frowns. She hates him to the bones. She hates his very existence. She hates everything about him; and those are enough to occupy her mind to randomly list every little thing she hates about Gilbert Beilschmidt that afternoon, when the latter's annoying acts had stopped suddenly one day. Abruptly, yet her memories of him would not let the flame of anger dies out as abrupt as his absence.<p>

Thus, that day she took her well-kept diary and decided to list the things she hates about Gilbert. 'I will exclude that cute bird', she muttered to herself whilst slowly yet surely scribbled her thoughts to the book, her mind lost in her reminiscence.

'Gotcha', she said to herself with content, lips forming her little victory as she slowly counts the numbers of reasons. The victorious smile broke into unsatisfied sigh, as there are only 19 reasons.

"Alright, let's make it twenty! Now.. where was I?" She traces her own writings nimbly.

_I hate his mocking smiles_

_I hate his way of talking_

_I hate how he always mocks me_

_I hate his sinister attitude to my husband, Roderich_

_I hate his way of laughing_

_I hate the way he looks at me_

_I hate how he always talks about his awesomeness_

_I hate his brain which is only full of brilliant war strategies and nothing else_

_I hate him for being unable to apologize_

_I hate him for never saying thanks sincerely_

_I hate his habit of sitting in the grass to see the sunset near our house_

_I hate him for always teasing me about how I thought I was a boy_

_I hate him for always walking around our house as if we are family_

_I hate his red eyes_

_I hate his platinum hair_

_I hate his muscular body_

_I hate his serious voice, too, seriously!_

_I hate his way of walking_

_I hate him whenever he is close to me!_

She laughed a bit on seeing how messed up her six last reasons. She giggled at her own thought of adding the twentieth point as 'I hate him because I love him' like a novel she once read. Grabbing her pen, she tried to just write what's in her mind, and ended up trying to make reasons as to not repeat the points.

_I hate his mocking smiles_

'Of course I hate them', she said to herself. Yet, something also struck her mind; she hates many things about Gilbert because he said many things to her after the mocking smiles. Things like, "Heh, in the end, you can't be as awesome as me! Perhaps I'm a bit too late." It is a silent mockery to himself, perhaps, and she started to hate those mocking smiles because of that. Because he then mocked himself for being 'too late'.

She snapped out her thought, and continued her point.

_I hate his way of talking_

She remembered Gilbert's way of speaking as full of confidence, playful, and yet.. not bossy. Since when did she hate his way of talking? Some time after she settled in Roderich's house? He began to talk as if he challenges her to compete with him, as if she didn't make a worthy opponent, with annoying sayings like 'wild woman' and so on. Perhaps he would not be like that if she were still free to kick his butt, free from her well-behaved manner she tried to act in, in this house.

_I hate how he always mocks me_

He said much nerve-racking stuff, indeed. She hates them so much. It's not only about his way of talking, that she also hates, but it's the mockery itself. "You married a stingy aristocrat, God bless you" or "You really didn't fit on feminine things" and many unpleasant utterances about her and her marriage.

'Heh. He's just jealous he couldn't marry me', Elizaveta muttered to herself half-jokingly, 'Or.. is it true?'

_I hate his sinister attitude to my husband, Roderich_

And who would not be pissed off to hear someone mocks your husband in front of you? Or even visit your house and boss around your husband, saying inappropriate stuffs?

_I hate his way of laughing_

What's with that 'Kesesesese~?' She really wanted to slap him for laughing out loud like that! And he said that she is a wild girl, that war-brained man!

_I hate the way he looks at me_

When there were only two of them… She saw him gazing at her, and it is sort of..weird? Like a wild beast that is suddenly calm because it sees his/her children, but in Gilbert's case, it only lasted for 30 seconds. One of the mysterious things insofar, and Elizaveta swore she would never let herself be alone when she's with him.

_I hate how he always talks about his awesomeness_

Fed up. Who wouldn't? He also said weird stuffs like "Were we together now, you'll be awesome like me". She has had enough of the awesomeness thing, did not understand, and would not want to understand why he is so obsessed with his own and her awesomeness. She would never, ever, said that word to that Beilschmidt unless he plays piano better than her husband.

_I hate his brain which is only full of brilliant war strategies and nothing else_

Old Fritz, Old Fritz. Ah.. he was so cute back then, bragging about Old Fritz' lessons to her. She has to admit that Gilbert is a brilliant strategist, yet a total imbecile in daily lives. Yes. Imbecile. He's a man without a common sense.

_I hate him for being unable to apologize_

Elizaveta accepts apologies and holds no grudges. Even to Gilbert. The problem is, that brat never apologizes to her, although she silently gives her apologies to him. He would just say 'uhh..' and talk about other topics quickly. Couldn't he be more Roderich-like? Ah, Germania-san, you did not live long enough to raise your kid as not to be brat like Gilbert now, ne?

_I hate him for never saying thanks sincerely_

'Even every time I make him coffee and politely give it to him. Has he ever thanked Old Fritz, anyhow?'

_I hate his habit of sitting in the grass to see the sunset near our house_

'It's like he is homeless. He lingers around, sits lazily until the sun sets, and then goes home without saying a word to me or Roderich. Brat.'

_I hate him for always teasing me about how I thought I was a boy_

'Hey, what's the big idea? No one told me about that, alright? It was long in the past, and Gilbert should not talk about it anymore. Supposedly. Ludwig is kind enough to remind me that he is a brilliant guy without a common sense, which I should pity him for.'

_I hate him for always walking around our house as if we are family_

'As if he is the _ore-sama_ I should make coffee too, and I should eat with. He will shut himself on our house's library, come out to make a fuss and eat lunch, come back to the library, go out to the garden for the sunsets, and then go home without a word only to come back the next day. As if this sanctuary belongs to him, too.'

_I hate his red eyes_

'Not that I hate the fact that he is born with those pretty eyes. But… I felt like he can read my mind. There is something contradictory about those pretty eyes.'

_I hate his platinum hair_

'Again, I don't hate him for being born so. It's a very beautiful color. It shines, glows. And I very much like the platinum hair, enough to make me smile upon seeing such beauty. I hate his hair for being Gilbert's, seriously. I don't want to smile for Gilbert. Tsk.'

_I hate his muscular body_

'Because it is soooo good and balanced. I wish it weren't Gilbert's.' She said, smiling sheepishly.

_I hate his serious voice, too, seriously!_

'A brat like Gilbert with serious, manly voice. I can imagine him talking with his armies about strategies with that serious voice. I either wish it weren't Gilbert's or wish Gilbert is as serious as his serious voice all the time.' She seriously is being absurd now!

_I hate his way of walking_

Elizaveta frowns. She always likes it. So soldier-like. She couldn't find the reason, yet she couldn't cross this reason out. She will figure it out later, perhaps.

_I hate him whenever he is close to me!_

Well, when you hate someone so dearly, you will try to hinder every possibility to be close to him, right? She feels weird every—

"Elizaveta, are you there?" a knock on her door and her husband's voice.

"Yes, dear, I will be there", she said, rushing to keep back her diary in her secret place, tidy herself, and goes out, leaving the unfinished twentieth reason.

'_And the twentieth reason is, I hate him because…_'

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 this week ^_^ *escaping from writing my thesis*<strong>


	2. Gilbert's letter

**Yes I know, I'm guilty for promising and not updating within one week :(**

**Thank you for favoriting, adding this to story alert, and even went as far as reviewing them. I hope you enjoy this new chapter. Somehow turned into a bit drama, tho ;D**

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><p>Days without Gilbert messing around her were simply wonderful…ly quiet. The morning is always a tender one, shy sunshine caressing her cheeks, a pleasant silence of munch and sipping sound, several small chats without a disturbance, a morning rehearsal (for her, it is her personal rehearsal to attend), a garden to be tended, a quietly comfortable lunch, her husband's half-angry-yet-tender shouts to Feliciano, and..<p>

'and days without Gilbert's annoying stuffs around me, plus no one to watch sunset in my garden. It is surprisingly calm without him.' wrote her in the silent pages of her diary that evening. As honest as she would be to her journal, she bore an unpleasant feeling about Gilbert's absence in her daily lives. It felt quite plain without him, although his presence itself had been habitual—she admitted it shyly to herself. And to think that she hated him! She reminded herself that she hated the annoying Gilbert; after all, she had made twenty (well, almost) reasons on why she hated him, right? Her delicate hands flipped open the previous pages of the twenty reasons, jade eyes tracing the reasons several times before the lids closed in defeat. 'I just couldn't make it without his annoying presence around me', she sighed, struggling to recall her hatred towards Gilbert at her house while she suddenly heard several soft knocks on her door. Getting up lazily from her comfortable position, Elizaveta rose and advanced to the door, quite annoyed by the sudden interruption.

"Yes?" said her quickly upon opening the door, eyes quickly captured the figure of her husband in front of her holding a curious fat envelope on his delicate fingers. She dared not speculate about the letter as Roderich's face made an expression of confusion and curiosity—if not amazement—while handing the envelope to her quietly.

"I believe you should tell me the content later; not that I'm being nosy. I just want to know the content of letter addressed to my wife", with that he flashed a smile, and opened his mouth once again, "..and please consider my offer yesterday. I would want to make this marriage a joy to our lives together."

He bid her good night and walked silently to his room, leaving Elizaveta standing by the door, amazed by the letter and flustered by the sweet husband's reminder of the request he made yesterday.

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><p>"<em>Elizaveta, would you mind a little chat after this lunch in my office?" said Roderich that afternoon. She was finishing her meal and munching her food; she flashed a smile and nodded upon the strange request. They finished their lunch, went to his working chamber, and settled down on his old-yet-elegant couch. As Elizaveta wondered about his not-very-composed figure today, he quickly went down to the business—something she had never expected.<em>

"_Would you like to move in my room? We are married and I am very happy for it. I know I haven't yet told you for so long because of, see, my cousin's presence in this house. I would like to take this chance to say this before he's back," he stretched a small smile, "and please consider this carefully. I would be very pleased to hear a positive answer in the near future, Elizaveta."  
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><p>The brunette thought of the yesterday's indirect 'real marriage' proposal, smile glued upon her as she stood still in front of her door. The soft yet loud thud of other door nearby pushed away the beautiful memory to an imaginary figure of a ruby-eyed man closing the library door carelessly.<p>

'Gahh. He seemed to be everywhere in my memory. The twentieth reason should be about his daily occurrence in my mind', she cursed silently, closing the door behind whilst the same figure appeared in her memory once again at the time she glanced on the letter.

The ink was blazing bright red with 'Gilbert Beilschmidt' marred 'awesomely' on the poor paper, her name at a similar situation on the other side of the envelope. Flopping herself into the bed, she tore open the cover, revealing a bundle of neat(?) handwriting she silently praised (hey wait, it's Gilbert's!). She rewarded herself a silent curse as on praising Gilbert's handwriting.

'I should make 'I hate his handwriting because it's so nice and Gilbert doesn't deserve to produce such a beautiful handwriting' too', she thought quickly, mind now focused on the curls of words.

_Dear Elizaveta,_

_I did not want to write 'dear' to you, since I did not wanted to be haunted by your frying pan in my dreams. However, I am too awesome to ignore the politeness in writing letters beginning with 'dear'. I knew you would love receiving this letter, because we are talking about the awesome sender, anyway._

_Eli, if you were aware of the fact that the awesome me did not visit you and the pansy aristocrat, it is because.. no, I am not dead. Too bad this is not some kind of partition letter from the dead and stuffs. I am now spending the whole summer at Antonio's house with Francis. Yeah, the old team that once kicked your stupid husband's ass. Anyway, I wrote you this letter at the very day of arrival of my awesome presence in Spain because it would take quite a journey for these chains of words to come to you, and it would be groped by that pansy piano fingers before you read them. No frying pan to Spain, please!_

_The sun shines kindly here in Spain, lively cheers in the air as well as beautiful dances under the moonlight after an awesome sunset! It is very awesome here, and I would very much like to invite you here; the grass so green to run on. Well, it could not be helped since my awesome prediction would very much be the reality: your frugal husband would not let a single coin spent on your holiday. I was kind of worried on leaving my little, cute brother at home, but I was more worried that my once-awesome friend did not feel very awesome without my presence around her._

_The awesome me would not want to end this letter yet, because I have not told you much about the awesome Spain! Unfortunately, Francis and Antonio are now dragging me to another harvest festival nearby; we are going to make them even more exciting with my awesome presence until the morning. Too bad you are not so awesome anymore (your husband made you so) to join me here. Please wait patiently upon my next letters or my presence there. If you missed the awesome being who are now in Spain, you can always write to him, and I know you would. It's me we are talking about, anyway; I am too awesome to be ignored._

_Auf Wiedersehen, Elizaveta Herdevary._

_Sincerely yours,_

_The Awesome Gilbert_

_P.S. No frying pan inside the letter or any words forming those two words. That's unawesome for my holiday._

"Isten..", she said to herself, her native tongue slipped the word gracefully upon reading the whole three pages of neatly written awesomeness trashes. Although she made several mental notes like how he talked about sunset and about her 'once-awesome' stuff, now she really felt like going to Spain to bang her frying pan against the silver haired man—she totally felt unawesome right now; curse Gilbert! Has she written about the awesomeness stuff as one of the reasons yet? Unfortunately yes. Thanks to Gilbert, she is now feeling like writing the candidate of the twentieth reason.

_I hate him because his handwriting is too good to be his_–too simple to end the whole statement and reason.

_I hate him because he always makes me emotional _–because he always makes me angry?

_I hate him because he is always inside my mind to bother my happy memories_–it feeelllssss like he is always on my mind. No way.

_I hate him because he makes me forget about Roderich _–could it be? He is totally mind-consuming (if not emotional consuming)

The serene moonlight shone upon her dim room, tender breeze entered, charming the beautiful brunette's jade eyes to rest. Elizaveta yawned lazily, tired mind after several unhealthy feeling consumed her evening.

Amidst the drifting consciousness, Gilbert's back in her garden and the sunset snuck into her closed eyes..


	3. His explanations her circumstances

**My deepest apologise, everyone *kneel and bow* for how-many-years-has-it-been updates. I had just found the lost notebook containing the continuation of this story yesterday night and gladly type it as soon as possible.**

**I would update the next chapter as soon as I could! Sincerely presenting this to the devoted followers...**

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><p>Elizaveta read, read, and read the envelope marred with the red ink. She did not know what made her stuck into those broken mechanism of meaninglessly reading and meaning every single curves of her name written, as much as his name on the backside, but something lingering on her mind right now, unpleasant and stirring up her stomach with those quenching uneasiness had her trying to divert and occupy her mind with a certain old friend in Spain, this very evening after her daily dose of wash-and-clean and awkward dining times. The expectant eyes, the questioning look, the uncomfortable silence hanging in the air longing to be broken by her reply. It has been almost three weeks after her husband's true proposal, yet she just couldn't figured yet what she should do. What she really wanted.<p>

Shaking her head, once again the night fell and there she was in her room, curling and excitedly opened the neatly folded pages of parchment, the replaced distractions and commotions which were packed into his letter received today. She had written him the very evil thought that flickered right after she received his first letter, boldly stating the 19 reasons she had drafted on her journal slash diary and challenging him to any objections or completion for the twentieth one. The Prussian man would certainly be delighted to see her lengthy reply, she guessed, and as much as she did not know what fuss he would talk about, Elizaveta just hoped that she had his vigorous reply, his never-wanna-lose soul to her reply on this letter at the moment. Joyously she began scanning his letters quickly, something she would always do before then re-reading slowly and thoughtfully. Her heart sank bits by bits upon reading the reply. She stared hard aimlessly to the papers and as she just flipped them back to the beginning, an interruption came with several knocks on her door.

"Elizaveta, please come to the living room. I need to talk about something."

Half-heartedly, if not annoyed, she got up, tidying her hair and followed suit after exiting her room, several steps behind Roderich. She knew it was just about time. Actually she did not want to tonight, not after _that_ reply she had her mind drifting about.

"Dear," Roderich said, snapping her to reality. He had taken a seat on the couch, and Elizaveta decided to did so on the opposite couch. He always masked his emotions, but as Elizaveta stared into his brown orbs, she could tell his uneasiness and somewhat, anger.

"Has two weeks already passed since my proposal?" he said in a calm tone.

"I believe so." She replied just non-chalantly.

"Could it be…. You need more time? It is not about consummating our marriage of course, I had simply asked our relationship not to be just attributes and roles, but to truly live up this marriage, vowing to each other to be a husband and wife."

Elizaveta did not reply, nor did she even lift her face. She could not very well received the information she had heard by now, but nodded as an acknowledgment that she had listened.

The man in front of her could not hide his disappointment at the very sigh he released. He tried to change the thick uneasiness and lightening, well, his mood.

"I presumed you have received the letter from my cousin. Perhaps I could be one to share the stories of you both exchanging letters?" he asked carefully, brown eyes delicately studied her face upon hearing the word 'letter'.

She blinked nervously, stuttering on her own reply, "O-oh, nothing. He is just boasting off about his holiday in Spain with Francis and Antonio, and I just replied asking him to bring any fresh vegetables from Spain. The tomatoes are very delicious there of course." Managing to make up stories on the last minutes, she made eye contact with him to prove she was not lying or hiding anything. The husband stared back for what seems like forever until he decided to give his best smile to the wife, and escorted her back to the bedroom, saying good night to her before the door slammed rather hardly in front of him. Surely he did not understand women even after decades, but he shrugged it off anyways.

Closing the door behind her, she was just confused and angry on her own self. She has had the chance of being a true wife, not a maid anymore in this house. Yet, as her mind raced and fluttered upon the thought of the bright blue sky and green lush of the backyards, and a certain annoying voices asking her to hunt, she knew that she might be bound to this white large house and its music inside and the husband telling her to stay with him. At times she would like to run to that white-haired man and wear her hunting suit, but seeing his reply just then had made her heart sank into the abyss. She was horrible. Utterly ugly and horrible.

_Dear Elizaveta,_

_Moonlight smiles brightly to me as to help me write this to you. I would not like to expect this as a short life of having a pen friend, who is my friend from a childhood, but I am forced to do so. I might be back anytime soon to my beloved home and concerning other matters, well I am still awesome after I read your letter. In order to give you the twentieth reason of hating me, let me also affirm the real reason why you really should hate me. This would be the last time of me, not only writing to you, but also pestering you. I would try my best of course not to bother you with my presence anymore. Please hear my honesty this last time._

_You should hate my mocking smiles because after that, I would rant on myself for being too late to save you from him._

_You should hate my way of talking because I hide my nervousness and urge to tell my feelings to you honestly in my, like you said, "challenging tones"._

_You should hate me for always mocking you because I just couldn't say you are beautiful and perfect._

_You should hate me for my sinister attitude to your pansy husband because I am a man of grudges, especially towards a certain someone who stole you from my side._

_You should hate my ways of laughing because I just try to hide my false laugh. How long has it been that I could not laugh to my heart's content til I'm totally drunk? You are not here for me anymore._

_You should hate me for my way of looking at you because I lost my guards many times, being alone with the only woman I have ever loved in my life._

_You should hate me for my brilliance in war tactics (which are from my dear Old Fritz), but not having a bit on my tactless, hopeless life to get the love of my life back. I would happily gave Silesia to be with you._

_You should hate me for always talking about awesomeness of mine because I lied to myself; how could a man be awesome without his awesome woman?_

_You should hate me for being unable to apologise because I do not want to have my tender spots touched when you are around; it would bring suit the right atmosphere to evoke myself blurting my feelings to you._

_You should hate me for never saying thanks sincerely for the same reason #9, with the addition of me having the urge to hug and kiss you instead of saying thanks. I like it way better than mere words._

_You should hate me for sitting in the grass to see sunsets because, do you know why, Eli? You used to sit with me although I never asked you to. I always hoped that someday you would sit with me again to see the beautiful orange sunset drifting to the blueness of night. With me and me alone. And Gilbird if you are okay with my little buddy._

_You should hate me for always teasing you about how you thought you were a boy. Not about your pathetic thought, but about that time, the moment I just wished we could go back to, so young and carefree, running on the lushes of forests. You were, are, and always be my significant other no matter who you are, be it a boy or a girl._

_You should hate me for always walking around the house as if we are family. Yes, I need to apologise for this, Eli. I just want to be with you. To eat with you. To have silly confrontations with you. To just see your smiles and frowns. My pathetic imagination of our married life._

_You should hate me for having my red eyes because Gott gave them to me. Oh you, my silly woman. I bet Gott created me to have red eyes so you would find me adorable and attracted you to be with me forever. Just kidding. I think Gott wants me to warm your days and be the second sunshine in the darkest days of yours. I wish I were that for you._

_You should hate me for my platinum hair. I was born albino, okay? I'd say my every strand of hair is to remind you how pretty moonlight is out there, shall you miss the moon on the moonless nights._

_You should hate me for my muscular body. Wait, what? It's getting ridiculous, woman! But everything has a reason, and I must be I am now to protect you from everything dangerous, especially if those spectacled piano spirit in your house hurts you. I am made for you._

_You should hate my serious voice…well, another thing I could not bring myself to answer this. Why? I guess it's because it needs to be like that when I propose you one day. So that you do not think I am kidding and banged my head with the frying pan._

_You should hate my way of walking because I was a soldier, not one to have the luck having my love walking besides me. I need to learn to walk slowly of course, with you, hand in hand. It would be awesome, and we could explore your beautiful garden, Eli!_

_You should hate me whenever you get close to me, my dear Elizaveta, because if you do not radiate that killing aura, I cannot help but do the previous 18 reasons to hide my excitement being close to the green-forest-eyed woman I always love._

_And if you should hate me, Elizaveta Herdevary, be it because I am not an awesome person, who can only displease you when I failed to take your hand in marriage (not a fate but my fault). I love you, vowed to make you happy but seemingly I just made you hate me and unhappy. I am sorry, Eli. I do love you. _

_I know that this is unawesomely unmanly to confess on a letter. Yet truth be in the lights, revealed as now you have let me knew your feelings to me. As much as this makes me write like a horrible romance novelist, I would just wish you to be happy. And sorry for being unawesomely whiney. _

_Thank you for everything, Eli. You are always my significant other, and you may run to me at any time if you feel any injustice, insecurities, and any other bad things the world gives to you. I would always be ready for you. I have been yours for that long time, and will always be. I pray for your happiness, always. _

_Loving you awesomely,_

_Gilbert Beilschmidt_

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She felt relieved to know Gilbert did not hate her, yet tortured by the fact that her arch-enemy is not the real devil. He is the same sweet, funny, gentle teutonic knight who became the Great Prussia. She was too busy fighting for her own country and for the sake of her people, finding safety in Austria as much as she had to admit it was for political reasons. He was back, covered her injuries, asked her to go hunting, annoyed her after the war.

She failed to notice that all the ruckus and fuss was just a hint of jealousy of her silly old pal, contenting herself with the fake fact of her hating him. Taking him for granted. How long has it been since she was stuck up here anyway?

Then again the damsel-in-stress [she's just stressed, really] could not seem to formulate any answers nor had her conscience talking to her what is the right choice. Her husband. Gilbert.

Glancing at the envelope to keep the papers, she took a small cornflower from the insides, slightly dried. Perhaps he had personally kept it to himself for some time before.

_Gilbert…._


End file.
